Eternal Jedi
by Clay Allison TX
Summary: A Jedi murdered by clones in the Great Jedi Purge awakes in a Galaxy ruled by the empire. Ch. 3 now up.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Cassidy awoke, wondering where he was this time. At least this time it was in a bed. He hated waking up on battlefields or in outhouses, or forests, or deserts. A Twi'Lek doctor came over and babbled something at him in Huttese. Cassidy waited patiently for his brain to translate.

"You are awake, I thought you dead for sure."

Cassidy was used to hearing these things. He always woke up that way after being shot, or blown up, or sliced, or spaced, or drowned that one time.

"Where am I?" He croaked in basic.

"Oh," The Twi'Lek responded, also in basic. "In a hospital Mr. Starjumper, of course."

Starjumper, the tone of that name sounded familiar. Where did they have names like that...Oh Noooo...

"Tell me I'm not on Tatooine again?" Cassidy groaned.

"Yes of course, Anchorhead, what do you mean, again?" The Twi'Lek looked confused.

"Nevermind, gimme my things, what do I owe you?" He rubbed his head and sat up. He looked at his arm and disconnected an IV.

"Your bill has been paid Mr. Star..." Cassidy cut him off.

"Don't call me that. I'm not going by that name anymore." At least that wouldn't raise any eyebrows here, even if he was apparently a local kid.

"Certainly, if you must hurry off..." He called to the hallway for his things to be brought.

He apparently had a backpack with various odds and ends, an old military blaster pistol (heavy enough that the average user needed two hands to steady it) a broken speeder bike that would only float in place when turned on, and a dewback to haul it. He also had 1000 credits, enough to make him hope the blaster worked.

Cassidy bullied the hospital staff into giving him 10 liters of water as a courtesy. Since he had apparently just died of dehydration, he felt it was paid for as part of his treatment. The payment had been rendered by some uncle in Mos Eisley he had no direct knowledge of, but memories from recently dead brain often came sluggishly.

He slung the two jugs over the Dewback and packed the rest of his gear in saddle bags. He then sat waiting in the staff lounge, drinking more of their water, for Tatoo I to set. When the sun went down he felt no further need to make the staff at the clinic (hospital was a real stretch) nervous and departed.

He didn't believe he could fix the speeder bike from parts found in Anchorhead, but on impulse he went to Tosche station anyway. The people there were shopping in the pleasant cool and he picked up a few components that he felt would serve with a little of his trademark engineering.

Off to one side he saw a shop that he recognized in general if not specifically. It was a Jawa Dealer. Jawa dealers bought Jawa scavenged merchandise in large lots and sold it off piecemeal to those in need of spare parts for anything from appliances to starships.

Outside the shop, large pieces of equipment were grouped under huge shelters. Cassidy bypassed them and went inside. The inside of the shop was deceptively large and it was packed floor-to-ceiling with pieces of technology. The stuff was arranged in order of size with similar-looking (sometimes totally unrelated) bits grouped together. He took a small box near the door and strolled along the aisles selecting components. While it _was_ working, Cassidy felt like his blaster needed a complete rebuild. It was a bulky DC-17 and he could already tell it wasted energy and gas 10 faster than a new one (not that there were any more new ones). These old dogs were designed to sacrifice efficiency for continued effectiveness as they aged. Cassidy had a knack for modifications and he knew he could get it shooting better than ever with a few spare parts and some time for tinkering.

As he passed a box with a number of rod-shaped things, something odd looking caught his eye. He reached in and pulled it out and examined it. It was, undoubtably, a broken lightsaber. He tossed it in his hand, the thing looked ancient. _I wonder what poor Jedi dropped this here on this idiot dustball, and I wonder when. Maybe it was me._ On closer examination he saw it couldn't have been him. The thing bore none of his style, though it felt like the Jedi had been human.

As he was musing, the store owner, a human at least twice as wide as Cassidy approached.

"Say there feller," He said. "Whatcha got there, broken flashlight?"

"No." Cassidy said quickly. "It's a control stick from a Devronian Atmo-Flitter. I'll have to totally redo the contacts to make it fit something around here, but maybe I can get it into a Pod Racer."

"Huh, Never wooda figgerd' that." The fat man scratched his bald head.

Cassidy pointed down the aisle to the far wall where a particularly long blaster rifle hung.

"Is that a Marnok Mark III Sniper-Blaster?" He smiled.

The fat man let out a wheezing laugh.

"It sure is, feller, but if it was workin' you couldn't afford it. Lessn' ya got a load a' spice that'd cripple a Bantha. Thing is, the entire mechanism is shot. Some sand-brain overheated it so bad it fused everything." He shook his head, chins waving around erratically.

"Yeah," Cassidy said, grinning. "But who can tell at a distance, I'll take it. I've got a long Dewback ride to Mos Eisley. Maybe it'll scare off the lowlifes."

"Haw haw haw, sure, I'm closin' up, need anythin' else?"

"Nope, got it all."

They bargained good naturedly about the price of the items and settled on 50 credits for the whole lot. The fat man waddled to the door with him, all the while grinning like he'd eaten the... well just about anything considering his appetites. Cassidy let a smile play across his face as he heard the door seal behind him and mounted his dewback, dragging the floating bike across the Jundland Wastes, he reveled in his good fortune. It might have taken him months to build a lightsaber from scratch. This one would be good as new in no time.

Night travel went without incident, the dewback was slow and they weren't particularly far out into the wastes yet. As the sun rose he found shelter from the heat under a leaning rock formation and from the wind as the rocks jutted out on all sides.

Reason dictated that it was best to refit the aging blaster, but love and familiarity led him to the lightsaber. Painstakingly, he disassembled it and cleaned out the fine sand. He discarded the burned parts and replaced them from his cache of circuitry from Tosche station and the salvage store. A new power cell, a feedback regulator, a new activation switch, and it was almost complete.

Cassidy had once assembled a lightsaber from all blaster components and the handle of a short vibro-axe, but it had been a miserable thing that overheated from long use, required an overlong handle and could only cut through up to an inch of durasteel without shutting down. It had still been enough to get him out of a prison camp with a full garrison. In a pinch, a lightsaber crystal can be made from the focusing crystal of a blaster, but they were always flawed and would make an inferior weapon.

Cassidy chuckled as he took the focusing crystal from the Sniper rifle. He could feel throught the force how perfect it was. The high cost of blaster-sniper rifles was partly due to the fact that for true long range accurate shots it was necessary to have a focusing crystal of rare perfection. One in 1000 crystals were sorted out from production by electronic eyes. These were the Class 0 crystals. Class 3 crystals were used for holdout blaster pistols, class 2 crystals went into military pistols, carbines and mass production rifles; class 1 crystals went into expensive sporting rifles and standard quality sniper rifles capable of very good accuracy at medium range. Long range snipers with class 0 crystals could make precision shots at 2 kilometers. This crystal was easily worth 1000 credits and it would make a great lightsaber crystal.

Finally it was done, Cassidy activated the Lightsaber and saw that the blade was a near-invisible translucent blur, the same color as a sniper-rifle bolt designed not to give away the sniper's position. It hummed happily as he waved it back and forth. He loved the balance of the handle. Whoever had lost it had known which end of the lightsaber was dangerous..._what color had it been? _He felt it had been a deep green. Rebuilding the lightsaber had been important to him for another reason. One needs to attune oneself to the force to build one, and he always needed to re-attune himself after his...blackouts.

Cassidy had lost count of how many times he died, he no longer knew (if he had ever known) why he always left the force, not as a wraith, but to enter a body near death, whose spirit had departed. He was a Jedi Master, probably from his first life on, but while his identity and talents remained unchained, his personal memories were subjective and confused. Through it all he pursued his purpose, to serve the force and the balance of the force. Life required death and light required dark and dominance of one over the other could only lead to terrible consequences. Strangely though, few people ever saw it that way. He had been called a Rebel, a Grey Jedi, a loose cannon, and perhaps he was. He had fought tyranny and corruption (and law and order) on thousands of worlds for thousands of years and through it all one fact remained.

Having finished his lightsaber, the Jedi Master slept.

Six hours later he was awakened, not by sounds but by a presence. He reached out with the force, five beings, their minds were primitive and clouded with rage and hatred. They were sand people. Silently he waited, the nearest was a mere 2 meters from his shelter. Cassidy exploded from his shelter, past the startled Tusken Raider and rebounded back off the rock formation facing it. His lightsaber hissed to life and he cut the dismounted Bantha rider in half just above the legs. He let out a warcry in imitation of a Krayt Dragon and the others scattered as the sound combined with their compatriot's scream.

The raider at Cassidy's feet was down but not out and he swung his Gaffi stick, catching him in mid-thigh with the middle of the handle, he never saw the result of the blow as the lightsaber came down, bisecting his head.

"Argh!!! You dirty, stinking sand-bastard! That really hurt!" Cassidy limped back to the place where he'd spent the night to gather his things. "Teach me to fight with creatures too stupid to die. Give me humans, or Bothans, or Devronians any day. I hate this planet."

He packed the rest of his things onto the Dewback and swung with a lot of effort and little grace into the saddle. "Come on Fairy Princess," (this is what he had named the 4 ton monster) "Haul that pretty tail of yours."

For the rest of the ride he slept in the saddle, stopping only to re-tune the blaster (now it would perform 50 better than original specs) and finish repairs on the speederbike. Two days later he was in Mos Eisley.

He sold Fairy Princess only 6 minutes after arriving in town, fixing the stablemaster with a stare and extracting an almost generous price. So it was that he arrived at Makka Mor'al's space junkyard on his rejuvenated speederbike. He strode into the office.

Makka was a Bothan, one of the top salvage men in the business due to his innate talent for finding out about the best salvage and make a claim or strike a deal before his competitors. Cassidy knew he got the top components and knew just how to turn his natural skill with machines into a job.

Cassidy took a seat in front of the Bothan's desk and struck a relaxed posture, waiting for the Bothan to recognize his presence. The canine humanoid sized Cassidy up for a long moment.

"Who are you?" He asked finally.

"Who I am is not very important, but call me Cassidy. I'm you're new components installer." Cassidy gave he what he always felt was a winning smile. The Bothan frowned.

"It so happens I do need a mechanic to install parts. How did you know? No, don't tell me, you guessed."

Cassidy nodded, maintaining the winning smile. The Bothan continued.

"What qualifies you to work for me?"

This was just the question that Cassidy wanted to get to.

"You want to hire me because I'm the best installer of illegal modifications on this planet or any other. Hidden weapons, smuggling compartments, anti-scanning tech, transmissions-jamming, shield boosters, you can pretty much name your pleasure." The Bothan smiled.

"How do I know you're not an imperial agent?"

Cassidy was ready for that question, sort of.

"Come on, you're a Bothan, if I was an agent you would have been throwing hydrospanners at me before I got all the way in the door. If you weren't two steps ahead of clumsy law enforcement like that, you wouldn't be here." The Bothan smiled and nodded.

"If you are so good, why come looking for work here?" This was the crux of the matter. Cassidy smiled.

"My needs are for more than just money. I need to be paid in hardware, primarily. I can do jobs that couldn't otherwise be done and all I want in money is 5 of the total take, 10 if I have to rebuild the parts. The caveat is that I intend to cannibalize a starship out of your scrap yard. ou sit on more merchandise than anyone on this planet and you don't leave it out in the sandstorms to rot away. You've got a played-out mine just outside of town and it's got enough space to store Mos Eisley with room left over for Mos Espa. I can live in the mine, sleep in a shuttle cockpit or something." The Bothan pushed a short stack of papers across his desk.

"How many cubic meters of scan-shielded smuggler storage can you put in this stock YT 1000 freighter?" He asked simply. Cassidy did a few quick mental calculations.

"About 93. Get more greedy than that and the inside will look too much smaller than the outside and you'll have to dump every time you're boarded." The Bothan stared at him.

"Now I know you're blowing sand." Cassidy smiled triumphantly.

"Not at all. The interior will have to be redesigned, but you can put large spaces here, and here, smaller spaced containers in these places. (he indicated each place with a dot from a pin) the anti scan plates can be fitted in small sections throughout the ship, causing scattered data and no suspicious hardpoints. The smaller gear will allow you to let the 'casters pull from heavy duty standard wiring, rather than requiring a dedicated circuit, those can get you into trouble. The best bit is that if you have to dump the big containers due to potential boarding you have only dumped HALF your cargo. That should allow you to break even on a spice run that would have otherwise garnered a massive loss. Inspectors will never find the small compartments without destroying any sensitive cargo in the process." The Bothan closed his mouth, realizing suddenly that he had had it open.

"That's very impressive, if you can do work that tight I know a hot shot smuggler that wishes he'd had those compartments a few weeks ago." The Bothan made a dismissive gesture and continued. "Honestly you are perfect for what I need. You have the job on your terms. One thing you need to know if you are going down there. Those mines are a huge system, dating back space-knows how many thousands of years, undoubtedly much of it natural. Also, they are filled with a relocated and lost Clone Wars supply dump. There is so much stuff that I hope to live long enough to safely move a small fraction of it." Cassidy practically drooled.

It was two days and three complex jobs before Cassidy got enough time to practically survey the starship hulks down in the caverns. The rooms were huge, it reminded him of a salt-mine he had seen on Utapau. starship hulks that had been new models in his last life sat in various states of disrepair. His usual specialty was light-freighters but this time he concentrated on the outdated snub-fighters. He used an equipment hauler to move an ARC170 and a Z-95 Headhunter into his work area. These two fighters could serve as the basis for a new fighter while he pulled weapons and components for it from others.

Next to his work area he set down a CR-20 troop carrier and unceremoniously gutted it to provide space. In it he put a cot, a food warmer, and a vid player where he could access the free public data nets to catch up on history.

The history was not encouraging. Chancellor Palpatine was now emperor. The Jedi were betrayed and murdered. Weapons of war fit to dwarf the Republic's great military of the Clone Wars held every system in terror. And yet there was some kind of rebellion. It wasn't exactly explained, but it was widely hinted at in a disparaging way by the imperial propaganda.

His short respite ended quickly as word about the quality of his work spread among locally based smugglers and bounty hunters. He had a stack of orders waiting for him up at the Bothan's office.

More and more he stayed in hiding as he worked, allowing the freighters to be brought in to him and taking his instructions through droid intermediaries. It took him a month to rewire the Z-95 cockpit for the new specs and equipment he anticipated. It took him over a week to totally rebuild a hyperdrive with a rating he estimated at .83, and another two days of his free time to totally reprogram an R-2 Astromech droid to understand and operate the craft. Considering his usual luck with programming, he'd be lucky if the droid was merely eccentric rather than totally insane.

In six months, Makka was raking in more money every month (and sometimes in a week) than he had made in a year before Cassidy's arrival. Cassidy was also a rich man, though he never checked his accounts to see. Cassidy settled on 50 of his waking hours for the Bothan's work, and 50 for his own. Increased free time was compensated for by his building of tech droids to help him.

In his seventh month of work, while looking for a com-encrypter, he found something that set his heart beating nearly out of control. A full set of armor for a clone commando team. For a moment he was back on Mygeeto. The operation was a mop up, he and his clone troopers were reporting victory when he overheard an order, _"Execute Order 66"_ and his OWN TROOPS started shooting at him. He ducked instinctively, made a mad dash for his starfighter, was halfway in the cockpit, reaching for the button to activate his shields...pain, falling, the barrel of a blaster rifle, and darkness.

Cassidy found himself shaking, three hundred meters from the supply box with the armor in it. lightsaber in hand. He shook his head and used his jedi relaxation techniques to clear his mind.

"So that's how it went down. Well, what goes around, comes around."

After composing himself fully, he went back to check the armor, what he found amazed him. This armor wasn't good armor, it was the best! Cutting edge Katarn-class Commando armor and it was all spotless. Cassidy donned the commander's uniform, then put on the helmet and activated the suit, reading the heads-up display and toggling to system specs. Cassidy was impressed. The suit featured armor that was actually resistant to blaster fire up to light cannon rounds. It was no payback for 19 years as a disembodied spirit, but it was a down payment. From that point on, Cassidy wore the armor at all times when not bathing or sleeping.

Seven months after first taking his job, Cassidy had just sent notice that his ship was nearly ready and he was ready to resign. His tech-droids could continue the work with the aid of a good living engineer. While Makka was very sorry to lose him, he agreed to take the droids in exchange for keeping the Grand Army materiel a secret. Cassidy convinced him that it was all far too distinct and far too hot to move under imperial noses.

Cassidy was making last-minute checks when his proximity alarm went off. Rushing to a monitor, Cassidy saw a platoon of storm troopers en route to pass within a kilometer of one of the small back exits to the mine-system.

In a more logical frame of mind he would have let them pass, certain that they had nothing to do with him, but he had spent too long alone, with memories of the life taken from him on Mygeeto pouring back. He had only one thought when he saw that white armor.

Cassidy grabbed his blaster pistol, (his lightsaber was already on his belt) and ran for the exit that he knew would give him an ambush point on the approaching platoon.

Commander Jaquim Narah of the Desert Sands Theta Squad slapped at the air-conditioning unit of his suit. It was working but barely and he managed to get just enough cool air to yell at his troopers to double-time now that they were close to the city.

"Faster you slugs! Or I'll have you transferred to Mod Terrik's squad. MOVE!" The squad actually moved. Mod Terrik was just the sort of grandstanding spacebrain that would get you killed one way or another.

Something was going seriously down in Mos Eisley and if a firefight hadn't started, it would. Commander Narah would never get there.

As he passed what seemed to be another of the innumerable sand-drifts, something exploded out of it. An armored man firing a blaster pistol took out nearly a third of the surprised and weary platoon with precision shots before they could react. Commander Narah could hear his Com Specialist screaming _"...under attack, rogue storm trooper, Delta Squad...repeat...rogue storm trooper."_ Narah could tell it was no such thing, the armor was all wrong, but he had no time to correct the man before the radio was shot and the man was in amongst them cutting them with...

Commander Narah fired but his shot was deflected into Sgt. Borun. A moment later he screamed as his hand flew from his arm. He realized dully as he was kicked in the chest and fell flat on his back that he was the last of Theta Squad left alive.

The man stood on his chest and Narah's mind cleared enough to hear him screaming. "Why did you betray me!? How did you know I was here!? Who sent you to kill me?!"

Narah wanted to cry, this was so stupid, so insane, "LOOK! I'm not here for you! Zeta Squad just vaped some rebels at a moisture farm, we're here to get some kid and a couple of droids! I don't know who you are, man!"

Cassidy's mind became clear again. He had not been gripped by the dark side when he attacked these men, but memory relapse was almost as bad. He needed to get off this planet.

"You want my advice, Captain? Trade uniforms with one of these troopers, desert and join the rebels. Can't be any worse than what you'll get for having your command wiped out by one man." Narah nodded feverishly and the man disappeared.

Narah thought for a moment as he cradled his lost hand. He'd never command again with a robot hand and a history of failure. He'd be lucky not to be branded a traitor. He found a corpse with only a blaster-shot to the neck as a wound and donned the armor, switching suits with the cadaver. He cut off the man's hand with a combat knife and a grenade on the corpse, making sure not to destroy the insignia, the only identifiable part of him left at the scene would be his own hand. He'd leave this barren rock from Mos Espa, maybe he would join the rebels, why not?

Cassidy set one of his painter droids to repaint his armor (He did not appreciate being mistaken for a storm trooper) and went up to Makka's office wearing a backup suit (the Commando captain's) under his cloak.

Makka stood up and shook his hand, speaking first.

"I want to say it will be tough to lose you."

Cassidy shrugged. "The techbots I modified for you should do most of the work if you get a halfway decent engineer to take over and supervise them. I'll contact you off and on in case you need consulting work."

Makka nodded. "I found a Calamari engineer, he's good, but he has bad gambling debts and he's agreed to come work for me here for a signing bonus that will keep him breathing. Where are you going?"

"I'm headed for Corellia. I've got a friend there." Cassidy felt bad for any Calamari that got stuck living on Tatooine. Makka nodded.

"Makes sense. A guy like you could make a bundle, outfitting those Corellian shipyards' products." Cassidy nodded somberly.

"Makka, there are some dead storm troopers out by exit 319 from the mine, I closed the exit, they're blaming a rogue trooper, just don't go out there 'til it's all blown over. Remember what I said about that military hardware. I'm going to get involved with these rebels. If they ever get big enough to pay for good hardware. I'll call you and try to move it all off your hands at once for a fair price." Makka nodded agreement.

"Good idea. I never liked the idea of the Imps tracing government property back to me. Illegal ship mods is one thing, being found in possession of several thousand imperial tons of Government hardware is more than my life is worth."

After a friendly farewell, Cassidy left.

By the time he got back, Cassidy's armor had been repainted, a dark red, nearly black in low lighting. The helmet had been painted a lighter, more striking crimson. He put his backup suit (after painting it matte black) in the storage pods of the ship.

The ship was a masterpiece, so well integrated and fitted that while technically an ugly, it looked like a new design that owed inspiration to the earlier designs. In more ways than one, it was. From a distance it looked like an ARC-170. Up close one noticed the ARC's triple S-Foils (6 total) were redesigned, uniform and modern like the double S-Foils of the X-wing (totally new manufacture from scrap) each of these ended in a heavy laser cannon. The ARC 170s massive sublight engines remained (converted to fusion), but 4 small Incom fusial-thrust engines were also added for emergency thrust and extremely high-powered maneuvering. Shield strength was tripled, and in addition to the 6 laser cannons, two ion cannons were mounted in the nose, on either side of the central torpedo launcher. The cockpit and astromech slot had been totally refitted, with the cockpit interior identical to the Z-95 (as the seat, controls and instrument panels were FROM a Z-95) and the slot perfectly fitted to seat his reprogrammed astromech droid, R3-P47, with an armored hatch that closed over his compartment, protecting the valuable droid. The main hyperdrive unit, rated a speedy 0.83, was backed up by a tiny class 16 hyperdrive. The sensor array was compact but fit for any advance recon ship. Cassidy wanted to kiss it.

Cassidy lovingly went through pre-flight protocols and flicked on the repulsorlift engines. A few musical notes from his speakers (he had reprogrammed the voice box of the R-3 to speak binary through music, so that he sounded like a Saffirese Gytarr player) told him that everything was go as the ship lifted gently off the floor. The shaft directly in front of and above him irised open and as he touched the controls the ship shot up it and flew clear of the cavern into the desert air like an anti-ship missile from a silo. He gained speed as the silo closed behind him, once again shielded from view and Cassidy's new ship vaulted toward space.

As Cassidy had sat meditating between sleep and wakefulness, the night before his departure from Tatooine, he had sought in the force for the soul of his friend, the only Jedi master of his former life whom he had called friend, Qui-Gon Jinn. He found Qui-Gon for just a moment, seeing his smiling face for an instant before it was blotted out by another vision.

In his meditation he saw the younglings of the temple as he had seen them last before he joined the clone war. The vision changed and they became older, falling back, fighting bravely and dying at the hands of Anakin Skywalker and the 501st Legion. Pain and deep sorrow lanced Cassidy's soul as he remembered how he had loved the younglings of the temple, of the many he had pulled aside to teach them some truth about the living force.

His meditation broke then and he was on his feet. "TRAITOR! MONSTER!" He screamed. "You killed them...killed them all...for nothing..." He fell to his knees and cried, tears dropping into the ancient caverns dust. The spirits comforted him, soothed his spirit and asked only: "Remember us, don't let us be forgotten."

Miles above Tatooine, a film of crude oil-paint burned from the hull of the deadly heavy fighter, displaying its' name to the galaxy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

The _Revenge _coalesced into normal space and Cassidy flipped switches, taking in sensor data and immediately saw a problem. He had appeared on the edge of the system, just outside the gravity well and almost directly in front of a security patrol. Three TIE fighters appeared on his screen and were soon arrayed in front of him.

The lead fighter hailed him. _"Attention, unidentified fighter. You are in posession of an unregistered illegal military craft. Prepare to be escorted to Tralus, where you will be arrested."_

Cassidy nudged his attitude control and his craft began to roll to port, as he did so he punched the Com button.

_"Fighter to CORSEC, transmission acnowledged. Be advised, I'm really not in the mood."_

As the ship rolled to port, the starboard laser cannons came up and fired: one after another with force-inspired precision. Each laser blast went directly through the cockpit window of a TIE fighter. The _Revenge _sped off, losing itself in the Kiris Asteroid Cluster.

Finding a calm zone in the field wasn't easy, but Cassidy found a large asteroid on the outer rim of the cluster, placing the belt between himself and the Corellian system at large. It took the annoyed Jedi master a profanity-laced hour at his com-panel to find an asteroid-monitor drone and piggy-back off its subspace relay to patch into the Corell personal com system. A few more minutes checking the directory and he dialled the number he needed for an audio-call.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end rasped.

"Hello, boy, this is your father." Cassidy said cheerfully

"My...what?" the gravelly tone reeked of surprise and annoyance.

"You heard me, your dear old dad, after all these years. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but I was dead, then I was on Tatooine, which bears a remarkable similarity." This didn't seem to have the desired effect.

"Is this a joke or are you just crazy? I'm not going to list..." Cassidy cut him off.

"LISTEN TO ME YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE MONSTER! IF YOU HANG UP ON ME I'LL COME DOWN THERE AND MAKE YOU WISH I'D NEVER BEEN DRUNK ENOUGH TO MAKE SWEET PERVERTED LOVE TO A GIANT LIZARD!"

There was a silence on the other end of the line.

"...d-daddy?"

Cassidy was filled with relief.

"Yeah, son, it's me. Sorry I yelled at you." Cassidy sighed, the anger gone from his voice as suddenly as it came.

"I thought they killed you, years ago." The voice was thick and emotional.

"Well, they did, I'm back though, I call it the Jedi Death Trick, though nobody else seems to know it." Cassidy patiently let it all sink in.

"How did you find me?" Cassidy's son managed to get contol of his emotions.

"You are almost certainly the only Trandoshan in the Galaxy named 'Zorak'." Cassidy laughed.

"I ought to kick you for giving me that name." The Trandoshan snarled.

"Come on, it sounded like a good name to give a giant green monster at the time. Look, this isn't a social call. I need a freighter that can on-load a starfighter. I'm in a modified ARC-170 and my Jedi Express Card is no good anymore." Cassidy said, getting to the point.

"No worries, dad, I just happen to have one. It's a brand New Action VI."

"Fantastic! Bring it up here, I'm between Ateroids 23 and 37, beaming from survey droid 331-XVI." Cassidy said excitedly and cut the connection, wiping the survey droid's memory of the transmission.

Sixteen hours of sleep later, the com blasted Cassidy into wakefulness.

_"Ungrateful Brat to Deadbeat Dad, come in, Deadbeat Dad, over. KKKTTT!"_

"That's very gorram funny, you shell-less swamp turtle. Give me your coordinates, I'll meet you."

_"Incoming, you psychotic pervert."_

Cassidy docked with the massive freighter, _The Lopsided Brick_, and waited as the hiss of pressurized air filled the bay. When the green light came on his panel, signifying that it was safe to disembark, Cassidy hopped out of the cockpit and took off his helmet.

Standing on the other side of the bay was a two meter tall Trandoshan, one that Cassidy had not seen since the reptillian humanoid was half that tall. He walked over to Zorak, expecting to clasp hands and was instead lifted off the ground in a massive hug. After he was finally set down, Cassidy caught his breath.

"What are you doing with a ship like this?" He wheezed.

"Well, dad, honestly, it's because I'm a smuggler." The Trandoshan looked embarassed.

"WHAT?!? After I had you apprenticed to the best music teacher around? You should be the best Gytarr player in the sector, what did you do? Eat him?" Cassidy exclaimed.

"I AM the best Gytarr player in the sector but there's no money in it since nobody likes Saffirese Gytarr anymore. It's all Droidpunk garbage now." Zorak said defensively.

"Is there good money in smuggling these days?" Cassidy said, hiding his deep sorrow that nobody listened to such great music.

"Hah! With the Imperial Bureaucracy regulating trade, there's more money in it than there ever was. This bulk freighter is perfect for it. While all the other bozos are out in hot rod YT 1300s, flashing their asses at the law and drawing fire, I've got my stuff securely hidden among tons of legitimate goods." Zorak grinned proudly, a sight that would make many hardened mercenaries look for another bar to drink at.

Cassidy was intrigued. "Got any mods?"

Zorak looked appalled. "What smuggling ship doesn't? Besides compartments, the Cockpit is an add-on from a YV-100 and the Turbolasers are definitely meaner than stock. Besides that the Hyperdrive is class one, listed as class 8. That gives me plenty of time to make side trips to pick up the real merchandise."

Cassidy turned serious. "This is perfect. From what I hear there's a rebellion on and the only thing better for smuggling than bureaucracy is war. We're going to smuggle, pirate and steal; but we're going to do it for freedom."

Zorak rolled his eyes. "You mean we're going to do it for money."

Cassidy turned back to him, as he had been heading for the control bridge. "What good is money without freedom? But then again, what's freedom without money?"

Cassidy found the ready room of the ship and patched into the holonet, sending off a coded message. Six hours of waiting later a message returned. Cassidy picked it up and ran to the cockpit where Zorak was navigating clear of the asteroid field.

"Hey! I got us a destination!" Cassidy yelled.

Zorak looked as if he'd eaten something sour. "Oh goody, where?"

"Ok, latest news from the friendly Bothan says that the Empire is building a moon-sized battle station as a weapon of terror, and it's about to be unveiled. So the rebels are going to have to try to take it down."

Zorak looked at him with incredulity. "So you want to meet up to help stop it?"

"Force NO!" Cassidy exclaimed. "You see, they have 2 brand new 2-kilometer Imperial-Class Star Destroyers coming out of Kuat to join it as escort vessels. I don't give the rebs a wookie's chance at your family reunion of knocking that beast out if they join up.

The Trandoshan frowned. "So we go to Kuat Drive Yards? Try to knock them out in dry dock?"

"Not a chance in Tatooine.We'd be pulped by ourselves and we couldn't find mercs dumb enough to take the job." Cassidy explained patiently.

"THEN WHAT IN SPACE ARE YOU GETTING AT!?!" Zorak shouted.

"We're going to Nubia. I just accepted a legitimate job to ship 5,000 Astromech Droids." Cassidy said, as if that were the most obvious thing in space.

"Dear space, why?" Zorak asked, almost plaintively.

"I also bought 5,000 R4 Agromech droids." Cassidy continued. This time Zorak just looked at him. Cassidy pushed on.

"We are going to switch the brains from the premium model R3, without which the big boats cannot sail for the brains of the R4s, which will attempt to make the ships into the universe's largest moisture farm. This means we get 90 profit, we sabotage the launch of the ships, and once we take credit we are in good with the Rebels."

Zorak gaped at him. "You're serious. You're insane but I believe you're serious."

Cassidy smiled and clapped Zorak on the back. "I'm entirely serious. I've got R3-P47 programmed do start the work. Once we have all 10,000 droids working on each other, we'll have it done in no time. There's an abandoned Smugglers' moon near the Duros system. It was found by Law Enforcement so long ago noone watches it anymore. It'll do for a stopover. With the discrepancy between the listed power of your hyperdrive and the actual power we should make it easily in time. We'll leave our super-smart R4s there and pick it up after we leave."

Zorak spoke quietly, almost in a groan. "There's no chance of talking you out of this, is there?"

Cassidy grinned from ear to ear. "None whatsoever."

General Harran Garett stood on the bridge of the near-completed Star Destroyer _Crusher_, He would currently rather be anywhere else. Currently he was listening to a war story pontificated by Admiral Waldor Stewerdt, a man of whom it could not positively be said that he ever actually participated in a war. He certainly had not participated, nor been the hero of: wars that took place before he was born, wars that happened in places he had never been near, wars that were entirely fictional, and combinations of actual wars that he had somehow merged in his mind. That dodn't stop him from claiming to be just such a hero.

It was no consolation to him that the morbidly self serving story had possibly actually happened somewhere, to someone. The fact that someone went to alot of trouble only to serve as boasting fodder for a pathological liar only served to make this diatribe all the more depressing. Fortunately he had his personal starfighter Squadron on the _Breaker_, having successfully argued that he needed to be able to take the agressive frontline role while the "Admiral" should remain on the _Crusher_ to actively defend the battle station. He had recently been promised command of a dedicated TIE carrier Dreadnaught, the _Hornet's Nest_, designed to compliment the Imperial Star Destroyers, in a few months.

Admiral Stewerdt had advanced through a combination of his family's connections and his shameless willingness to claim credit for anything, often bribing underlings to write testimonials on his behalf.

General Garett of Coruscant was the highest ranking Starfighter General who still flew missions with his men, as well as the youngest Starfighter General in the Empire. He was awarded the rank, as well as a special TIE-fighter designed by Darth Vader (a prototype discarded in favor of his newest advanced TIE) by virtue of his upset victory in the All-Aces Imperial Starfighter competition over Soontir Fel.

Garett was the son of a smuggler, and former juvenile dilenquent. He was also the highest performer in the history of the TIE Academy reflex tests at the time he was tested. He graduated first in his class, the first top performer ever to be also the shortest member of the class. Now he was to have command of one of the largest fighter groups in the Empire. The only thing that worried him was serving under Darth Vader. He'd never liked the way Vader stared at him when he won that competition.

Cassidy stood on a catwalk above the docking bay where the meter-tall droids did their dance of disassembly. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be conducting, using his deactivated lightsaber as a baton. Zorak looked on, shaking his head in disbelief. Finally the dance came to an end. The lobotomized R3s began rolling up into the cargo bay of the _Lopsided Brick._

Cassidy let out a sigh. "Are we on schedule?"

Zorak looked at his chronometer and his eyes widened. "Yes, actually, with time to spare! What in space?"

Cassidy clapped him on the shoulder. "It's like battle meditation, but I'm better with machines."

The first droid transfer went well aboard the _Crusher_. Cassidy and Zorak barely spoke to anyone, the Imperial Quartermaster who accepted delivery was apparently nervous about talking to a Trandoshan. Within minutes they were aboard the _Breaker_.

Things went well, for about a minute. Then, as he was about to get clearance to leave, a call came over the radio to escort the droid transporters to the bridge. On the bridge of the Star Destroyer, Zorak and Cassidy were met by Admiral Waldor Stewerdt.

"Mr Canada," he said, adressing Cassidy by his assumed name, he did not address the alien at all, "I reviewed your documents and I noticed that you bid especially low for this delivery contract."

Cassidy's heart stopped for a moment. He cursed himself for being desperate to be awarded a bid.

"I invited you up here to commend you on your patriotism and the prompt delivery of the needed droids."

Cassidy's guard was still up but he answered with a winning smile. "All the better to crush these rebel scum and bring peace back to the Galaxy soon, Admiral."

The Admiral beamed. "We have an operation planned to crush these Rebels once and for all," at this point he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "We'll be a big part of it."

"Well," Cassidy said carefully. "With a man of your reputation in charge of it, they are as good as finished."

The Admiral shook with silent mirth, and considering he had the physique of a Hutt on two legs it was an impressive sight.

"Let me tell you, my friend, there are two kinds of people in this galaxy, those that fight and those that flight, you shake a big stick at these rebels and they'll be back on their little moisture farms in no time. "

Suddenly a second figure, dressed in a black imperial navy uniform, fitted with a General's insignias, intruded upon the conversation.

"Admiral, perhaps it would be best to discontinue this line of conversation before we unintentionally divulge any sensitive information." General Garett was sure that his idiot commander was about to tell them all about the Death Star.

"Haw!" The Admiral laughed in a sort of a bray. "These are patriotic citizens of our great Empire. Mr Canada, this is General Garett, he makes up for his reckless and daring fighting with paranoia outside of battle."

Cassidy gave the General a winning smile. "We really shouldn't be taking up any more of the Admiral's valuable time."

"Certainly gentlemen, I'm sure you must be busy. My family has lucrative trade holdings on Atzeri, tell them you know me. I'll be sure to send you some fine Corellian Whiskey care of the trade office on Corellia." He waved a dismissal.

Cassidy and Zorak made a quick exit.

"_I'm glad to be out of there."_ Zork hissed in Dosh, one of several languages Casssidy had made him learn as a youngling.

"_No kidding, that General in black is strong in the force, and I seriously didn't like how he looked at us._"


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Two months after the droid switch, Cassidy and Zorak were drinking in a bar on Nubia, amused that Bothan reports still had the _Breaker _and the _Crusher _in dry dock, and they had not yet diagnosed the reason for multiple system failures. Their false idents that they had traded under were long buried and the droids were in a safe asteroid safe house. Vicarious contacts with the rebel alliance were all congratulations.

Zorak poked Cassidy with a claw. "Come on, I know you too well to believe you can rest after a successful mission that turned a 150 profit, including the money we were paid."

Cassidy smiled. "Correction, 175 counting the Corellian Whiskey the General sent us."

Zorak made a sour face, though his reptilian face was difficult to make any worse. "You won't sell any of that, you'll keep it for yourself."

Cassidy grinned this time. "Expenses avoided is money made."

Zorak persisted. "You have to be coming up with a plan."

Cassidy leaned back. "Nope, already got one. The empire blew up Alderaan three days ago."

Zorak: "Yeah, I kinda noticed the biggest news EVER."

Cassidy: "Remember that I bought that load of aftermarket Protocol droids, the ones I've been painting black and reprogramming?"

Zorak: "Yeah, 300 LOM bodies with 3PO heads."

Cassidy: "Well, we're going to kill us a planetary governor with them. But first..."

Cassidy got up and staggered drunkenly, it was an act, as he never staggered even when he was drinking. He then made his way to the bar, talking loudly.

"Lousy stinkin' Imperials! Think they can go around blowing up civilized core planets? What kind of maniac is the Em'rer guy anyway? Who does he think he is? Some joker from the outer rim who thinks he can push civilized beings around? Where does he get off? Bartender, I'm gonna buy the men at the bar a round, lets all drink to the rebellion!" He finished this slurred outburst with a loud belch.

As he had expected, two men stood up from the bar and walked toward him. The nearest one spoke.

"Buddy, I suppose you didn't know that this is an Imperial bar, and we don't take kindly to your treasonous words, just suppose you buy that drink and drink to the health and glory of the emperor."

Cassidy saw a group of men get up from a table in the back. He locked eyes with the man challenging him, all traces of intoxication gone from his expression and voice. He spoke quietly.

"I have a counter proposal, suppose you buy the round, we drink to the rebel alliance, and you get to avoid the savage beating you are so desperate to receive."

The Imperial's eyes snapped wide and his face twisted in rage. He swung on a roundhouse right as Cassidy who stepped inside it, blocking easily with his left hand and following with a right palm-heel strike to the chin that snapped the man's head back, followed by a kick to the inside of the man's left knee, disabling the joint.

"HE JUST HIT THE SARGE! GET HIM!" The crowd that had stood from the table began to make a dash for Cassidy, but suddenly 125 Kilos of scaled fury, all claws and teeth, hit them from behind.

The man just to Cassidy's front looked back, distracted by the terrified screams and Cassidy executed a powerful kick to the side of his head. "Good night corporal." he muttered as he attacked the remaining three men from behind. Zorak had already accounted for three, tearing the arm off of one and disemboweling two others with his clawed hands. Now the remaining me stood warily as bay as Zorak held the arm of the man he'd disabled in his claws, apparently ready to use it as a club.

Cassidy dropped the first man from behind with a barstool across his neck. A second man turned to fight him but he punched him in the throat, collapsing his windpipe, as the man fell to his knees Cassidy finished him with a knee to the temple. The third man fared no better, as Cassidy attacked from the rear, Zorak rushed forward. The man attempted to grapple with Zorak, ducking a swing of his comrade's arm, but the tackle failed to move the heavier humanoid. Instead Zorak bit down on the back of his neck and shook until the bar reverberated with the sound of a loud snap. Side by side Cassidy and Zorak walked from the bar without saying another word.

Several kilometers away, after disappearing on unmarked speeder bikes and reemerging at one of the several apartments that they had rented in Nuba city. Once inside Cassidy spoke.

"Nice fighting boy, you must have got that from my side of the family, I knew my genes were strong."

Zorak made a sound between amusement and disgust.

"You know I've long since realized that this mating you always speak of is not only fictional, but utterly impossible. Why do you keep it up."

"Aww, have a sense of humor, boy." Cassidy laughed.

"That would require a sick sense of humor." Zorak growled in return.

Cassidy laughed. "Well, maybe I do have one."

Zorak: "You want to explain to me why we just tore up one of the most popular bars in Nuba City?"

Cassidy: "Because I didn't want to tear up _The Dark Side of the Planet_, Bulba would never forgive me."

Zorak: "Still..."

Cassidy: "Tomorrow night stormtroopers are going down to that bar in uniform to take revenge. You still have those heavy repeating blasters?"

Zorak: "I begin to see..."

That night, Imperial Governor Aadms sat in his office shuffling through papers. Adamas was shuffling through. Strutting and officious, Adamas had spent his entire career pretending he was more important than he was. He also considered himself a tactical genius in spite of years of evidence to the contrary. "Four injuries, four casualties, in a bar brawl?"

"Yes sir," said the lieutenant, "There was apparently an attack animal involved."

"So! The rebels think they're smarter than me!" Adamas said, pounding his fist on a desk in a way he was pretty sure impressed people. "Well, I'm far too smart for that!"

"Sir?" The Lieutenant dared prompt for more information.

"Those thugs will be drinking in the bar tonight, celebrating their 'victory', secure in the knowledge that it is 'their bar'. We're going to show up in force to show them what we are made of. Brief company B on the mission, all occupants of that bar tomorrow night are to be arrested, interrogated, and executed as rebel spies."

"Aye sir."

The morning before the attack, Cassidy and Zorak parked a large ground transport a block down the road from the governor's palace. Setting the security system, Cassidy turned to Zorak.

"Are they all set up like I asked?"

"Yes dad," Zorak rolled his eyes, "Are you sure about the new programming you and R-3 put into them?"

Cassidy laughed, "Oh yes, you'll find that protocol droids are very flexible."

Twelve hours later Cassidy and Zorak were on the roof of the building opposite the _Mook's Cantina_, the place they had been the night before. Cassidy sat smoking a cigarra and sighting in his DLT-19 Sniper Rifle.

Zorak spoke, "I don't see why you bother, you always use the force to aim, and you barely even use the sights."

Cassidy looked defensive. "It relaxes me. You done getting that E-Web set up?"

"Yes, though the extra-powerful generator was extra-heavy to carry up here, with its extra-heavy coolant system." Zorak snarled.

"Quit whining, if I wanted whining I'd have gotten a daughter. In any case we're leaving it here, so you don't have to carry it down." Cassidy shot back.

"Shut up, here they come."

Arriving in an open Skiff, the Imperial Stormtroopers marched to the door of the bar in tight formation. This would turn out to be a fatal mistake as Zorak opened fire with the heavy repeating blaster just as the Stormtrooper Captain began to read the arrest order. At the same moment, Cassidy burned a neat hole in the captain's helmet with the sniper rifle.

Zorak mowed them down in groups and Cassidy picked off the individuals as they scrambled for cover. Thirty seconds from the firing of the first shots, thirty stormtroopers lay dead.

Cassidy hefted his sniper rifle. "Grab that E-Web and let's go, we'll use their skiff to get to the Company B station."

"Anything else you need? How about a ton of Durasteel, or a Bantha?"

"Less talking, more running."

Five minutes later they burst into the company B station. With the entire company gone, the gray-uniformed office personnel were easily dispatched; a moment later they were into the arsenal. Three hundred E-11 blaster rifles were loaded onto the skiff along with a box of 500 concussive grenades in a matter of minutes. Cassidy and Zorak made haste for the palace.

Governor Adamas was beside himself. "Thirty stormtroopers were beaten by criminals and thugs?!?! I won't have it! Strip the Palace guard, spread out throughout the city and find these rogues and bring them to justice!"

The lieutenant was shocked. "But sir, emboldened by their victory they may try a to assault the palace itself!"

Adamas practically squealed. "You FOOL! Don't you know anything about rebels? These cowardly bushwhackers are only just realizing the trouble they are in! They hit and they run, but this time, they won't get away!!!"

Cassidy and Zorak quickly armed the 300 reprogrammed protocol droids, renamed the RPD series. 001-RPD was designated Droid Captain and each carried a machete-like vibroblade in one hand and an E-11 blaster in the other. As they quietly offloaded from the transport repulsor truck where they had been standing, some of the droids changed weapons on their own initiative so that 50 carried two vibroblades and 50 carried two blasters.

Zorak and Cassidy made ready to join them.

Zorak spoke. "Hey dad, where's the lightsaber."

"I didn't bring it, if the security camera picks me up wielding it, or someone recognizes lightsaber wounds on the bodies, we'll attract the attention of Darth Vader himself, and I'm not interested in seeing him in the flesh-and-steel. That's why I'm wearing stormtrooper armor instead of my better stuff. Instead of the lightsaber I brought this." Cassidy explained.

"A shield?" Zorak looked skeptical.

"It's magnetically shielded, blaster bolts will bounce right off, plus it's surprisingly light." Cassidy displayed it proudly

Zorak: "Alright, I've got a heavy disruptor here, it should prove helpful as a breaching weapon. You have those rigged R5s ready to roll along with extra ammunition and grenades?"

Cassidy: "Ten Four."

Zorak: "Then send in the ambassadors."

At the signal, Protocol droids approached the back and side entrances to the palace at the tottering walk customary for protocol droids (in fact protocol droids only move slowly and clumsily because they have inhibitor chips to make them seem less threatening, these had been the first to go when Cassidy started upgrading).

Each was challenged at the door by a stormtrooper on guard, and each of the droids, in a movement so fast you could barely follow it, pulled a vibroblade from behind its back and decapitated the stormtrooper in one smooth blur. Zorak and Cassidy entered with side-door teams, the rear team was lead by 001-RPD.

The fighting in the palace was hot and desperate but the reprogrammed protocol/combat droids (Cassidy called them aggressive negotiators) steadily gained ground, taking the auto-defenses and panicked stormtroopers with precision targeted shots in the open, and lopping off arms, legs and heads in close quarters with their long vibroblades, targeting the joints of the armor with accurate cuts.

Cassidy was closing on the governor's office when Zorak's voice crackled over the intercom.

"We've reached the Governor's living Quarters, he's not here, it's all up to you at the office. We'll clean up to secure the escape route. Good job on these droids, they really take a beating."

"Protocol droids are tough. They are very expensive and are in the business of translating insults and delivering bad news. A lot of people like to shoot the messenger, so they are designed to survive." Cassidy returned.

Zorak: "What's our next priority?"

Cassidy: "Secure the building, kill the rest of the guards, if they surrender, lock them in the dungeon. Gather up the droid casualties, we'll all be escaping on the Governor's escape shuttle. Captain 001 and his team have blocked off his escape route to it."

Governor Adams shook with terror as he slinked down his escape tunnel, holdout blaster in hand, he stuck his blaster out in front of him as he swung around a corner and screamed as his blaster hand was cut off neatly at the wrist by what looked to be a black 3PO unit with glowing red eyes. He fled in terror back the way he came.

As the governor reached his office he momentarily forgot his bleeding hand as he was shocked to find a helmet-less storm trooper sitting at his desk.

"YOU!" he shrieked. "A stormtrooper! We were betrayed from within!!!"

Cassidy clicked off a the recorder unit on the desk.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that. I see where you've had over 1000 people tortured and executed as rebel spies recently."

Adamas: "Look, I didn't know how to look for spies! I just had them killed and tortured at random, the empire expected me to look vigilant!" he cut off suddenly, realizing it wasn't helping his case. "Please don't kill me." The governor pleaded.

Cassidy: "Oh, I'm not here to kill you, I just put a slicer program on your computer to send all of the secrets you have access to the rebellion."

Adamas: "You, you won't kill me?"

Cassidy: "No, but he will."

Adamas turned in horror as the droid who had cut off his hand appeared behind him, coming in through his secret passage. Captain 001-RPD shoved the erstwhile governor to the ground. Pulling a delicate 15cm vibroblade from his belt, he spoke.

"I'm fluent in over six million forms of evisceration, this might take a while."

Cassidy continued his work, ignoring the screams.

Less than an hour later they were loaded aboard the Governor's _Lambda Class_ Shuttle, the _Exit Stage Left_. All nonessential droid personnel. Were loaded as cargo, with 4 officer droids filling out the shuttle crew.

Zorak spoke. "Rendezvous with the _Lopsided Brick _in just two hours, Dad."

Cassidy smiled. "We're not going back to the Corellian system, we have to go to a backup home base to launch our next op."

Zorak looked back at him. "I'm just shocked we got off that world without getting fired on."

Cassidy: "The operation was so fast that the defense forces got word that the Palace was being attacked moments before the Governor's shuttle was aboard. I also received all kinds of useful codes from his computer. In essence they let us go because they thought WE were the retreating governor."

Zorak: "So where do we go? To join the rebels?"

Cassidy: "Not just yet, I relish my independence for the moment. Also, as it stands, we are connected through rebel Bothans, and they are not happy with Mon Mothma's grand standing and driving Garm Bel Iblis out of the Alliance. We're headed for Boz Pity."

"It's just like you to establish a base in a bunch of ancient ruins, guarded by mad protocol droids." Zorak groaned.


End file.
